Elaine and Benjamin, euphoric about their phenomenal escape, rushed to the back seat, as the bus pulled away. This elation slowly waned as soon as the comprehension of what they have done sank in.
This is, by far, the most powerful movie-in-a-movie cameo I’ve seen. But I haven’t seen the whole film, though, just the part which was shown in 500 days of Summer.
I’ve been playing it in the background while I was plotting our schematic design plans in Sketchup. I’ve done this so many times that I’ve begun to understand the whole point of Summer’s crazy bitch character; the clip from The Graduate was probably the catalyst of Tom and Summer’s break up. She saw herself in a similar position as Elaine who acted upon mere impulses without any attempt at logical rationalization.
After their perfect celluloid moment, ‘what now’ was written all over Elaine and Benjamin’s faces. What comes after their great escape? What happens after their un-thought off debacle? What if they just made the biggest mistake of their lives? Is it too late to turn things around?
Don’t you just hate that feeling? When it’s time to reevaluate things in a clearer, less adrenaline-driven perspective, there’s the sudden feeling of emptiness, even if what we supposedly want is already right in front of us. It debunks all the exhiliration we felt. It’s as if we have misread our own philosophies and life principles the whole time.
Is there something wrong? I don’t know. There’s just something with wanting to have something. We may not be able to distinguish the obssession with the desire to possess something from the love of the possession itself.
You see, I recently bought this cabinet from a furniture outlet. It took me almost a month to save for it, but the act of purchasing the item was out of the blue. I even got the item for a lower price without lifting a finger to haggle. And to top all these off, I told my mom that had I opted to move out on my own, I’d be able to take the cabinet with me because I paid for it (I was kidding, of course).
After transferring all of my clothes and books, I occasionally find myself admiring the neat, wengue finish, thinking to myself, ‘what now?’